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Doomed anecdotal megathread #2


Sergio Mendacious

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That's probably the biggest reason why the likes of Brighton and Bournemouth continue to thrive, whereas many other traditional seaside towns, such as the Margates and Yarmouths, are nowhere near the places they once were. Students are constantly pumping money into their economy all year round.

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7 minutes ago, PunkStep said:

That's probably the biggest reason why the likes of Brighton and Bournemouth continue to thrive, whereas many other traditional seaside towns, such as the Margates and Yarmouths, are nowhere near the places they once were. Students are constantly pumping money into their economy all year round.

Brighton has a combination of being geographically close to London, students and the gays for its prosperity. Bournemouth has Poole and Weymouth nearby which are much more tourism based economically. Being close to Southampton which is another university helps and you get gangs of students going to Bournemouth on the piss at weekends. The rest of Dorset is a bit of a wasteland as far as anything resembling a nightlife.

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On the flip side, Dorset certainly used to have a kicking free party scene. Ā If you like your nights out to be drug-fueled and in the middle of fucking nowhere that's a good thing.

I once went to a rave in these caves :

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winspit

Each cave had a different sound system in, so techno in one, deep house in another, dnb in a third. Ā And on the ledge outside was a vast bonfire with seating area if you needed a chill out, and they set up a stage for live music. Ā Best night out I've ever had.

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Ā 

On 7/29/2019 at 2:13 AM, SuperBacon said:

Yeah we spent most of the day on Southbourne Beach, and around Christchurch as the idea is to actually move down there within the next 12-18 months.Ā 

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On 7/29/2019 at 5:26 AM, Loki said:

As someone who lived and worked there until the age of about 27, beware!! Ā It's all lovely and sunshine until about 7pm. Ā Then all the old people go back to their old people's homes and all the stag and hen dos crawl out of their hotels and the place turns into the second coming of Sodom and Gomorra. Ā I used to gig 2 or 3 times a week in Bournemouth and it's a fucking state most nights.

Also, you'll need to sell one of your kidneys to be able to afford Christchurch or Poole, the property prices are insane even compared to London IIRC.

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On 7/29/2019 at 5:39 AM, SuperBacon said:

100% not moving to main town Bournemouth, as I just couldnā€™t deal with it, more a surrounding town and property prices are fine tbh.

What I pay for a one bedroom flat in Weybridge, IĀ could get a two bedroom house with a garden, but I understand what youā€™re saying.

Every coastal towns has its absolute ragers who come out at sundown. Suppose itā€™s just about avoiding them.Ā 

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On 7/29/2019 at 2:54 PM, Cod Eye said:

How do things change down there once the summer season ends? Only asking as I did 2 years on the Lincolnshire coast when I was a secondment at work, and once the season ends it become an almost completely desolate ghost town. Even most of the houses were empty during the winter...

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As a Bournemouth native It really is a lovely area. Bournemouth city centre, Boscome and Upper Parkstone can be exactly as Loki describes year round but i've never felt like I was in danger and those mentioned as well as the drug addicts and general unwashed tend to be on the main highstreets or certain areas easily avoided.

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If you are thinking of moving more Christchurch way may I recommend looking slightly over the Hampshire border, especially if you are a car driver and don't need to rely on the public transport so much. Towns like New Milton and Ringwood are nice and very affordable. easily driveable to the beach and right on the New Forest border. between there the villages of Bransgore and Burton are good solid communities although the former (my home) has no public transport to speak of. That said house prices are very high looking at the UK as a whole which will be why I don't move back there to begin with in a few years as it would mean being a perennial renter. However do choose your side of the area based on where you could be working. I worked for years on the other side of Poole and it meant a snaking 45 min drive through backroads to avoid traffic and get to work on time.Ā 

As for the winter months, its a big enough town that it still has life, of course the summer brings more people and trade but the towns are definitely not reliant on it due to the multitude of firms that use the area as a big base.

If you need any advice please feel free to DM me.Ā 

Ā 

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The wife-to-be was working a night shift last night. This is a 99% straight copy+paste of the message I sent her at half 4 this morning, after having gone to bed around midnight and being woken up at half 3.

For reference, Cole is our pet cat (black, mischievous) and Oscar is our pet Chihuahua (crossed with a Pomeranian, little shit),Ā and we have garden furniture outside near our backĀ door and the garden stretches back a fair bit. I've also editedĀ our neighbor's name out. I hope you find some joy in this, as I haven't slept since and I'm on my fourth coffee at work, with five hours to go;

Quote

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Just got woken up by what sounded like Cole at the backdoor and Oscar barking at it.

Went down, opened the backdoor and there was nothing. I looked up into the garden and saw what looked like white back legs (of a cat or similar sized animal) jogging away up the garden. I closed the door, bemused, told Oscar to shut up and went upstairs.

Then it knocked again.

So I went downstairs (again), opened the door (again) with the dog going barmy and nothing was there. Again. But this time there was no other animal or even Cole, just nothing but the garden and the sounds of a cat.

It was meowing deep and long, kinda like the way they do when engaged with another cat. But it was only one cat.

I went upstairs and opened up our bedroom window (Oscar is going ballistic at this point as he knows something is out there and he WANTS TO SNIFF THAT ANIMALS ARSE, BADLY), and I could just about make out Cole on top of our shed. The meowing stopped a few seconds later, but I don't think it was Cole.

So I threw on some clothes, went downstairs (again), opened the backdoor (again), with OscarĀ at a boiling point, in order to coax Cole in because Oscar would be restless all night otherwise, and so would I.

Coles just sitting there, on our neighbour's fence. Not moving, just lookin over his territory. Not our house or garden, but the neighbors. He won't Fuckin' move though.

FINALLY, after an age of showing him the open backdoor, and my friendly face lit up by my phone like I'm about to read a book to the Midnight Society, he starts making ways towards the house. S.L.O.W.L.Y.

He took the long way around too.

As he gets to the path by the vegetable patch, OSCAR SPRINTS THROUGH MY LEGS INTO THE GARDEN AND CHASES COLE OFF.

HE THEN SENSES THAT HE'S FUCKED UP AND HIDES AT THE SIDE OF THE SHED.

I grabbed him, making enough noise to wake the hounds of hell, and muttering to myself like fucking Harry from Home Alone, I threw him back in the house and looked outside into the garden. No cat. Anywhere. Fucking hell, Oscar.

BUT OH WAIT. THERE'S NO MORE. SO HANG ON, BECAUSE THIS ONE'S A STINKER.

I'm considering cutting my losses at this point, and just hoping that Cole is fine and won't come back until morning, and that Oscar has had his fill of cottaging. As I'm closing the door (after I spent a few minutes stood by the shed trying to find Cole), who should appear BACK ON TOP OF THE SHED.

JESUS H FUCKING CHRIST.

AGAIN, I try and coax him. Again Oscar is doing that mini gruff/growl/bark shit, and Cole will not move.

So fuck it. Time for plan B. Shooting both of them in the face with the nearest shotgun.

No. No. That's too easy. I went to the porch, grabbed a cat foodĀ sachet and hid it in my backpocket so as to not arouse Oscar's suspicion.

But of course he fucking knew I had food some how, and he was poochy circusing (this our term for when Oscar gets on his hind legs to get a glimpse of any potential food) around the gaff like the fucking annoying shithead animal that he is.

I show Cole the packet. He's eyes light up. I remove the phone torch from his face and shine it on the food instead. His eyes light up.

You have never seen a cat. Move. So. Fucking. Slowly. In. Your.Life. With the extended scenic route, too.

He makes it to the table outside and hangs around for ages, and Oscar is woopering and whatever the fuck he does in this scenario. After spending ageeeeesss sniffing a table leg and eyeing up the open door.........he darts in. I escort him to the living room. I turn the kitchen light on to throw the sachet on the side, tuck in Oscar and lock up. Guess what was at the top of the top bolt of the backdoorĀ the entire time? Right above where I had been standing and where I had been constantly, blindly unbolting and bolting...a giant fucking spider, clutching it's latest prey in its gob.

No, not the original cat who started this fucking mess.

And that's that. This all started at about half 3 and was over by aboutĀ four. I've been wide awake since, so I'll be adjusting my alarm accordingly. I hope your night is going well!

Ā 

Ā 

Edited by Accident Prone
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